


The Just and The Magnificent

by CenturiesPast



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Angst, Bromance, Brotherly Love, Edmund's armor finally cracks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, No Slash, Post-Narnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 19:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4031317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CenturiesPast/pseuds/CenturiesPast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They come back from Narnia.<br/>Again.<br/>In which, Edmund can't take it anymore, and Peter's pissed that he went to enlist in the war.<br/>*Book 4*</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Just and The Magnificent

**Author's Note:**

> I heard someone say that the reason why Edmund or any of the other Pevensie's weren't in any of the books after Voyage is because their character arc is done. I strongly disagree. People never stop growing, changing, and developing. Never.  
> Thank you for reading, love.

The muscles of his mouth upturned as he reached for his sword, but then dissipated when the mighty blade was not looped around his belt in its proper place.

Edmund opened his eyes.

 The young king expected to hear the loud fervor of men and the roaring of the seas in lieu of a white blank ceiling, cotton sheets, and overall stillness. The frission of excitement was abandoned; replaced with despondence. His very soul became lugubrious as regret washed over his being. His eyes should have remained closed; that way the time to fulfill the duty of wakening could have been extended.

 

_How much longer must I wake to the same dream?_

 

When his bare feet touched the cold floor, it was anything but real. Nor did the white room itself feel enmeshed in reality. If he focused hard enough though, he could still smell the ubiquitous ocean salt that lingered in the air, tainting and haunting his senses. Edmund rose and faced the portrait, the portal, searching for a ship that had long sailed. His eyes longed to see the crisp waves come to life once more and a mighty infinitesimal ship, with its sails clothed in royal purple, draw nigh; ready to sail its Kings and Queens back to their homeland.  
The young king pressed his forehead against the precious portal, and traced the pattern of the waves, wanting nothing more than to sink into them. He’d rather drown within the depths of the great Narnian Sea than be involuntarily slapped back into this so called _reality_. The word was a mere petty title, nothing more. Narnia was his reality, his home, his soul. And to be practically forced to live in this world, yet _again_ , was more than he could bear.

 

“Aslan.” he whispered, “take me back.”

                                                                                                     

**~***~**

 

Within milliseconds, Peter was assailed by arms. He dropped his suitcase, a warm laugh escaping his lips as he embraced his younger sibling.

“I missed you so much!” Lucy muffled into his chest.

Peter smiled and placed an affectionate kiss on top of her hair. He inhaled the scent of her golden brown strands. Lucy always smelt of spring.

“I missed you too, Lu.”

She beamed, blue eyes sparkling with avidity. “We have so much to tell you!”

He slightly pulled apart from the embrace, glancing downwards at the unadulterated light.

“We?”

 Eustace sauntered into the room looking taller and more refined since the last time Peter had seen him. Peter straightened as Lucy let go, and greeted the boy. He prepared himself for a smart-aleck retort, but looked shockingly down (and a tad impressed) at Eustace when he respectfully welcomed him into his humble home. It was amazing how maturity can creep into one’s years, even if those around them least expect it.

He looked at the two and noted the absence of the third.

“Where’s Edmund?”

“Second floor to the right,” Eustace said. “You’ll find him there.”

 With each step Peter climbed, his thoughts doubled on how to approach the subject. When he received Lucy’s letter the only phrase that seemed to practically glow in his mind’s eye was, “Edmund went to enlist in the war.” In that moment, fear, anger, and longing had washed over him like a tide threatening to consume him whole. He had to swallow his emotions and swear them to secrecy when Professor Kirke entered the room. Fear ingrained itself to the walls of his mind and shook at the heart of his core.  
 

The High King stood in front of the white door. After knocking politely, Peter opened it, revealing his brother still dressed in nightwear. He noted his strange stance in front of some painting. Peter couldn’t ignore the apprehension that bubbled up from his gut and settled in the back throat.

He took a step closer. “Ed?”

With the perk of his head, he turned around and faced Peter.

Confusion painted itself over the young face. “Peter? What are you doing here?”

Peter smiled in attempt to break the tension, his voice light, carrying humor. “Hello Ed, nice to see you too.” He set his suitcase down beside the door and calmly walked over and stood before the boy. His hand found the side of Edmund’s face. He remembered how round the cheeks were. Now all the baby fat was stripped away, substituted by hollowness and a strong jaw. He stroked the delicate cheek.

“I missed you.” He whispered. _And thank Aslan I don’t have to_ keep _missing you._

Which brought him to the matter at hand. Peter cleared his throat and his hand fell to his side.

“Edmund,” he said, sincerity and affection lost in place of solemnity. “We need to talk.”

“We are talking,” came the cheeky reply.

He niether laughed nor stirred.

 “You went to enlist in the war,” he said carefully.

Edmund snorted. “Much good that did me.”

“And you didn’t bother telling me?” Peter exclaimed, voice growing irate at the flippant reply.

Edmund frowned and looked at his brother questioningly, not really knowing the reason for his anger. “Why would I tell you?”

“Why?” Peter cried. “Yes, why would you tell me that you went to enlist in a war where you could possibly die in?”

He sank into the mattress and stared into those ocean blue eyes. Edmund’s brows furrowed. He still couldn’t place the source for Peter’s anger and concern.

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Oh, I’m making perfect sense.” The emotions he purposely buried resurrected. “You’re just lacking the common sense to tell your own family that you’ve decided to go serve in the war!”

“It’s not like I got in!” Edmund fulminated.

“And what if you did, Edmund?” he retorted. “Hm? What then?”

Edmund narrowed his eyes, anger seeping into his tone. “Then I would have told you.”

Peter crossed his arms. “I’m sure you would have.”

Edmund stood up from the bed, outraged, wounded, and perplexed. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this!” He stood tall and firm. Blue clashed with brown and King challenged King. “I’ve led armies, Peter, armies into countless of battles. Wars were practically my common chore!”

“Not anymore, Ed!” Peter yelled, “This isn’t Narnia-

“SHUT UP!” he roared.

Peter froze.

“I will ALWAYS be a King of Narnia!” Edmund bellowed. “And you or this damned world can’t strip that away from me!”

 

 

Silence.

 

His eyes searched within the convoluted brown ones, searching for the match that set such acrimony aflame.

 _Some_ _thing’s wrong,_ Peter thought.

“Edmund,” he said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Edmund shrugged away from his touch. “N-no!”

He grasped both his shoulders and merely tightened his hold when Edmund struggled frenetically.

“Edmund please,” Peter softly begged, peering deep into his eyes, trying to keep a firm hold. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Edmund shook his head and pounded his fists on his brother’s chest, warm tears spilling down his face.

“No! I need to go back! I must go back,” he finished weakly; the final hit delivered feebly, his fist glued to Peter’s chest.

Peter drew Edmund to his chest and rubbed circles into his back, placing a kiss on the crown of his head. “Tell me what’s wrong Eddy,” he said again. He grasped the boy’s chin and raised the tear-streaked face. The sight alone yanked on his heart strings. “Tell me.”

“I can’t bear it, Peter,” he sobbed, “Not for a th-third t-time!”

He managed to keep his voice calm. “What can’t you bear, Ed?”

“N-Narnia!” Edmond exclaimed hysterically. “We j-just came b-back. I can’t take it Peter! I-

Peter brought Edmond to his chest, continuing to rub his back in soothing motions. The young King’s frame became too heavy for his legs as he sagged against his Peter, his rock. Peter swathed the boy’s arm around his neck and quickly brought them to the bed. He sat with his back against the headboard. Peter wrapped his arms around Edmund’s torso and pulled, so that his back lay on top of Peter’s chest. He tucked Edmund’s head underneath his chin, tightening his hold when the boy’s body wracked with sobs.

“Breathe.” Peter whispered, and Edmund inhaled.

Silence draped over their tongues like a pall. How foolish they were to venture forth from the wardrobe, when they could’ve stayed alighted in their blessed kingdom. But no. Curiosity, with its temptations and demands, hijacked their minds. They were ripped from their home by their own hands. It was an accident, yes, but it doesn’t change the fact that they cannot return to their rightful place. Narnia would remain a distant memory, a dream slowly fading with each day. And as long as they live to see the sun grace the world with its light and the night drape its dark curtain over the heavens, the longing that seemed to seep into their beings would leave nevermore.

Tears formed in Peter’s eyes and he let them fall.

He managed to whisper the very words that shaped their destiny.

“Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia.”

Edmund gazed at the painting,

“Always.”

 

_fin._


End file.
